


come morning light (you are all that i need)

by jadeddiva



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-05
Updated: 2014-03-05
Packaged: 2018-01-14 16:44:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1273690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jadeddiva/pseuds/jadeddiva
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His head is still spinning because it has been barely days since she first gave him any real hope and now, to think that she loves him…it makes him excited -like a young lad about to go on his first expedition out to sea.  Epilogue to ‘those dark moments before the dawn’.</p>
            </blockquote>





	come morning light (you are all that i need)

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so very much to artielu for the beta-work – you are a rockstar.

“So what’s the plan now?” David asks as he leads Emma and Killian to her parent’s home.  Emma’s hand is once again in his, palms pressed together, and he takes a moment to enjoy the feeling despite the question that they have to answer.

The past day as been a blur to Killian – from arriving in Oz to finding the Dark One alive again to using Emma’s feelings for him (and his for her, that much is true) to help cross realms.  His head is still spinning because it has been barely days since she first gave him any real hope and now, to think that she loves him…it makes him excited -like a young lad about to go on his first expedition out to sea. 

Killian has loved Emma for a year and more - loved her fiercely in her absence, and more fiercely at her return, and yet enough though their time in the Enchanted Forest brought them together, he never assumed that there was anything more to their dalliance in Neverland.  He never thought that their friendship, slowly evolving over time, could turn into this.  He has never had someone like this – like Emma – in his life, and he is utterly grateful for the fact even if he is absolutely exhausted.

 “We tell Neal,” Emma tells David quietly.  She squeezes Killian’s hand as she speaks.

They walk in silence to the loft, none of them certain what to say.  He knows that at some point he will probably have to talk to David about his intentions regarding Emma, but the other man seems to appreciate the tremendous efforts that have been expended today and he does not question or push like Emma’s mother would have (or, perhaps, he’s known for some time.  Killian has always thought the prince more perceptive than her mother in regards to their daughter).

David opens the door and before Killian can blink, Emma is being pounced on by her son.  He pulls his mother into a hug, practically knocking her off her feet in the process.   Beyond them, Killian can see Neal and Belle, who holds little Roland.

David turns to Killian and, with a smile, says “I’m sure you could use a drink.”

Glancing at Emma, at Roland who clutches Belle cautiously, at Neal – “Aye,” he responds.  “I most certainly could.”

David gestures for Killian to follow him into the small kitchen and gets a bottle for each of them.

Killian nods, grateful, and takes a sip of cool lager.  He has never been to Emma’s home before in any sort of ‘friendly’ capacity and so he falls back onto old habits to ease his feeling that his presence is that of an interloper.  “Thank you, mate.”  He glances down at the bottle.  “One thing I will always appreciate about this realm is that the ales here are much better,” he says, trying to make light of the situation. “Much better than most of the swill they served at taverns in the Enchanted Forest.”

David nods.  “Going back to warm ale after this…” David adds with a smile. 

Killian glances back towards Emma, who has Henry tucked into her side and is speaking to all of them – Neal, Belle, Henry – at once.  He’s not sure what she’s saying exactly about the Dark One and Regina, but he can read the tension in her shoulders as the three of them watch her speak. In watching the scene unfold, he becomes acutely aware of the fact that for all of his own happiness, he cannot say the same for any of them and for Emma, with this act – his fingers flex against the bottle, wanting so badly to touch her, to let her know she is not alone and that he is there.

He wants nothing more to be at her side and comforting her, but he knows that part of loving Emma means allowing her space, to stepping aside and letting her go where she needs to be.  It is probably the hardest thing for Killian to do but what he does gladly (all for Emma, always for Emma).

He takes a deep breath, takes another swig from the bottle.  He is tired and yet alert, watching Emma and the reactions of those she speaks to.  Crossing two realms it difficult; crossing three can be exhausting, which is why he must miss David leaving and returning, a small knapsack in his hand.

“I don’t think you’re exactly my size, but this should make do until we get you a change of clothes,” he tells Killian, holding out the sack.   Killian furrows his brown in confusion until the words that the prince spoke catches up with his dizzy mind, and he puts two and two together when he looks into the sack.  A change of clothing – two changes, it seems like (sleeping clothes, perhaps?).

“Thank you,” Killian tells David, trying to express his sincerity as clearly as possible.  It is too much, this kindness on behalf of the prince- this subtle acceptance of Killian here, and in Emma’s life.  It is something Killian thought he would have to work harder to secure, and he is very much appreciative of how the other man trusts him with his daughter.

He shifts the sack so that it’s on his shoulder, and so that he can still drink his ale.

“Don’t mention it,” he says, clapping Killian on the shoulder.  He takes another sip of his ale, and Killian does the same, and both of them watch as Emma disentangles herself from her son and heads towards them.  Henry sits with his father, and Killian feels a profound sadness at what fate has done to Baelfire and his family.  Even though he knows that Milah was miserable before she met him, and that the Dark One was always a wretched coward, and Baelfire caught between, there is still a feeling of guilt and loss that lingers in the pit of his stomach when he looks at Neal

_At least he has Henry_ , Killian thinks before he takes another drink.  _At least he has Belle, and Emma, and this family._

Emma approaches and, when close enough, reaches for the bottle.  He hands it over and she takes a swig, then another.  Killian thinks about protesting, teasing her that there are more in whatever cold store David retrieved their own bottles from, but he finds a small, indescribable thrill in the intimacy of the gesture _._

“Can they stay here tonight?” Emma asks her father. 

“Of course.”  Emma nods, and then turns to Killian.

“Ready to go?” she asks, and he nods.  Emma finishes off the bottle and turn puts it on the counter.  She turns to say goodbye, and Henry is already there, eyes shining, standing behind her.

“I’ll see you in the morning, okay?” Emma says as she pulls him into a hug. She presses a kiss against his hair and when they part, Henry turns to Killian.

“Thanks for getting my mom home,” he says.  Killian nods, unsure of what to do, but then Henry is extending a hand politely to shake his own.  The gesture is one of respect and maturity, and though Killian barely knows Emma’s lad, he is moved by the action.

“Always,” he tells Henry, because he will.  There is not a day that will go by that he will not do his best to protect Emma.  He shakes the lad’s hand and as he does, glances over at Emma.  A strange look crosses her face and she blinks before looking away, at the floor and then at her father before meeting his eyes again.

At this moment, Neal approaches and places his hands on Henry’s shoulder.  The way that Henry looks up at his father with a smile makes Killian smile in return, though Neal does not.  He looks at Killian and nods before extending his hand just like his son had done a moment before.  Killian is apprehensive but shakes it regardless.

“Thanks for bringing Emma home,” Neal says, repeating the words of his son, and Killian nods.  There are no other words that he can say, and he can only guess what the other man is feeling right now, so he schools his features carefully, and tells him, “Be well, Baelfire.”

Neal breaks the handshake and walks away, hand scratching the back of his neck, and Killian does not watch to see where he goes.  Belle, he knows, is gone, and Roland with her.

Emma hugs Henry one more time before finally leaving the apartment, Killian in her wake.  They take the stairs and finally are out on the main street, where the cool air brushes against his face. He can smell the sea in the air and there is no small amount of longing in his veins when he considers the harbor just down the road.  But then Emma slips her hand into his, fingers entwining, and the longing he feels for her far surpasses anything he’s ever felt.

“Did you tell them where we’re going?” he asks, shifting the sack on his shoulder.  Emma shakes her head.

“Nope – maybe Dorothy did?  There wasn’t enough room to sleep there, and Mary Margaret wasn’t around to ask questions so…” she trails off, then ends in a giggle that is so unlike Emma that it startles him.  “I’m sorry, I just realized that we’re sneaking off to go make out.  I did that all the time in high school but never with my actual parents so it’s just…long overdue, I guess?”

Killian doesn’t know what she means by ‘high school’ or ‘make out’ and he never had anywhere to sneak out to, but Emma seems to be amused by the idea of an illicit encounter with him and so he lets go of her hand, wraps his arm around her and pulls her closer.

“I hate to tell you this, love, but your father gave me a change of clothing so I’m fairly certain he’s on to us,” he says, mouth lingering near her ear.

“Well, damn,” she says, turning in his arms.  “And here I thought we could be sneaky.  Guess I failed that when I told them I loved you in the hospital, didn’t I?” she says, fluttering her eyelashes as she looks up at him.

He has never been more attracted to her than he is right now.

“How much further to Regina’s?” he asks, and Emma laughs. 

“Impatient much?”

“Swan, you are a frustrating woman at the best of times,” he says, trailing off and allowing her to snuggle closer, wrap her arm around his back as they continue to walk towards Regina’s .

“Trust me, I know exactly how you feel,” she tells him, her voice low and something coils in his stomach.  It is a nervous energy, a restlessness and tension that seems to linger where her hip bumps into his as they walk.   Every moment and every minute only makes it grow.

Regina’s house is a two-story house that looks rather large.  Emma does not have the key, but the door opens easily with a wave of her hand (“Magic,” she says with a smile).  She turns on the lights by flipping a switch near the door, and Killian can see that there is a magnificent stairwell as well as other decorations fit for a queen.  But he pays none of that much heed, because Emma turns to look at him and the world narrows to just the two of them.

She closes the door and he cannot wait any longer.

He steps forward and kisses her, pressing her back against the white door and cupping her face with his hand.  She moans when he tilts his hips into hers, arching her back and pushing herself against him.  They have spent far too much time kissing and talking of love, and he is starting to think that she is every bit as desperate as he is when she grabs his collar and deepens the kiss, tongue sneaking into his mouth. 

Carefully, he moves his hook hand to wrap around her, pulling her closer (as if it’s even possible, there is barely any space between them).  Emma lets go of his collar and grabs the hair at the nape of his neck, angling his head and deepening the kiss.   At the same time, she uses the leverage of the hard door to lift a leg, trying to wrap it around his waist; Killian more than obliges, groaning at the increase contact and the way that Emma moans as she grinds down and into him.

“Fuck,” she says, resting her forehead against his.

Killian laughs so as to avoid saying anything indecent, and presses a kiss under her jaw, near her chin.  “Perhaps somewhere other than a door…” he says instead.

Emma nods, dropping her leg.  She still has her hand in his hair and so she pulls him forward for a final, lingering kiss before letting go, which is his cue to step back. 

Emma sniffs the air, and wrinkles her nose.

“Oh my god, we stink,” she tells him with a laugh.  She covers her face with her hands, embarrassed.  At the same moment, her stomach growls, and she smiles.

“Maybe the curse left us with some food in the fridge,” she tells him.  “Can you go find a bathtub or something upstairs while I scrounge up some food in the kitchen?”

Killian nods, noticing that he’s also a bit hungry as well (for food in addition to Emma – that much is clear).   Emma smiles as she presses a brief kiss on his lips.

“I’ll meet you upstairs,” she tells him.

He watches her disappear into another room before embarking up the stairs.

He finds a room with a large bed, which he eyes because the white sheets are particularly appealing to him (he imagines Emma’s gold hair spread out against the stark whiteness and he swallows, because the fire burning in him is so very real right now).  There is a door into a smaller room, which he enters.   He gropes for the light switch and flicks it on to reveal a large bathtub, sunken into the floor, and something else that looks like a small glassroom with a hose.   Both are intriguing.

It has been a long time since Killian had the luxury of a hot bath, so he shrugs off his jacket and puts the sack David gave him by the door.  He walks over and turns the taps, feeling cold then hot water pouring over his fingers.    He closes his eyes at the feeling, because it is positively sinful to have such extravagance in this realm. 

He isn’t quite sure what he should do but he is absolutely certain that he should not bathe first.  He lets the tap run to fill the basin and starts opening cupboards until he finds washcloths – large ones that feel soft against his fingers.  He places them near the large tub and then turns to his hook.  He doesn’t want this around if he is going to be with Emma later (as he sorely wishes) so he undoes his vest and slips out of it, then pulls the worn black shirt over his head.  The straps that hold the harness in place are easy to manage – he’s been doing this for years on his own – and when he finally takes the hook off and places it on the counter, that is when Emma returns.

She stops in the doorway, carrying a bag of food, and stares at him.

That is when it occurs to Killian that his body is covered in scars, that there is the tattoo of Milah on his arm that is now prominently displayed, and that it is probably indecent for him to be standing here in such a state of undress (though honestly if they were to pursue more amorous activities like she had implied, they would reach this state of undress sooner or later so - )

Emma licks her lips.  “I found some snacks,” she says, glancing away from him and towards the bathtub.

“I’m sorry – I meant for you to bathe first, but I thought that I could take off – “he starts to say, but Emma glances back at him, eyes wide, and he stops.

“You were going to let me go first?” she asks, face scrunching up in her surprised look.  She takes a deep breath and walks over to the counter, where she puts the bag down and looks up at him. 

“What if we bathed together?” Her eyes so very green and so very scared in the soft light of the room.

Killian swallows.  It was not his intent, but now that the idea is in his head he cannot let go of it. 

“Emma…” is all that he can say but she smiles at him and nods.  There is fear in her eyes – of rejection? he wonders, surely she knows that he would never turn down anything she offers him – and so he nods as well.

“If the lady wishes,” is what he says instead of anything else, and Emma smacks him on the arm.

“I’m no lady,” she protest, but he catches her hand and pulls her close, wrapping his arms around her.

“No, you’re a princess, and you should be treated with respect – which is precisely what I intend to do,” he tells her, and the words do something to Emma.  When she smiles at him, there is something in that smile that he sees rarely, and that is the shy beauty of Emma when she is at her most trusting.  She tilts her head to the side as she tells him, “You know that I love you, right?”

“I do.”  With his admission, Emma shrugs in his arms.

“Then let me introduce you to the wonder that is a bubble bath.”  She steps out of his arms and starts to root around in the cabinets in the bathroom until she finds what she is looking for – a small bottle.  She holds it up to his nose to smell its fragrance (jasmine and amber) and then proceeds over to the tub and pours a small amount into the running water.

“Such a luxury,” he comments, and Emma smiles at him.

“I know, right?  When I got my first job, I bought some expensive stuff at Nordstrom’s to treat myself and it was amazing.  Just what I needed after a rough case.”  She puts the bottle beside the tub and looks at him nervously.  “I’ve never shared a bubble bath before.”

“First time for everything, I suppose,” he tells her, and she nods.  There is a blush creeping over her face as she looks down at her clothes.  She is still wearing clothing from the Enchanted Forest – a fitted leather long-sleeved bodice that was her mothers, leather pants and boots.   While she looks appealing in anything, Killian finds that he much prefers the clothes that she wears in her realm.  These clothes are a costume for a role Emma is not comfortable playing, and he wants her to be truly herself.

“What did David pack for you?” she asks, crossing her leg and reaching for a boot.  Killian reaches for the sack. 

“Two pairs of pants – one made of flannel? Why do you need flannel pants in this realm? – and several shirts,” he says, examining the contents.  “Emma, why would I need – “

He stops talking when he glances up to find that Emma has shucked her boots onto the floor and slipped out of the pants that she had been wearing.  She is clothed only in a pair of small, thin pants that barely cover her, and which he assumes is worn in this realm ( _she must have brought them with her_? is all that he can think).  He looks away quickly, because he’s not sure if he’s supposed to be looking at her right now, not in this state of undress.

“Can you help me with these ties?” Emma asks shyly, turning around so that her back is to him and he can see the laces of her bodice (he tries to ignore how long her legs are, and how he wants nothing more than to trace his fingers up the side of her leg, to press kisses on the inside of her thigh and feel her fingers in his hair -)

He reaches out for the laces and undoes them, slowly, struggling to breathe evenly with her there though he doubts he is alone in this – her breath hitches audibly as she slips off her leather top and is clad in some sort of ridiculously see-through corset.

She turns away from him, looking at him out of the corner of her eye while grabbing the tail of braid.  She removes the strip of leather that keeps it in place and studies the ends of her hair instead of looking at him, and he can see the blush spread down her chest.  She keeps looking down as she shakes out her braid, until her blonde hair is wild and free and he can’t help it anymore.  He steps forward, takes a lock in his hand, traces its path downwards across her shoulders.  She shudders under his touch and that is when she looks up.

There is more vulnerability in her stare that Killian has seen before, and he curses every single person who made Emma think so little of herself – every single person, Neal included, who provided brick and mortar to build the walls he’s spent so much time tearing down.  He smiles, and takes a deep breath.

A dozen platitudes come to his mind, but he chooses the truth instead.  “I love you,” he tells her, and she smiles, soft and easy and a bit relieved, tension melting from her shoulders _,_ and shuts her eyes, a small laugh tumbling from her lips.

“I know,” she says, covering her mouth as if to keep laughter inside, and he can’t help it either - he laughs as well because he is happy and it has been a long time since he’s been _happy._

“You’re a bit overdressed, Captain,” Emma says, reaching forward to trail her fingers along the waistband of his leather pants.  “I hope you don’t mind.”

Hook shrugs, choosing instead to trace his hand over every available inch of skin on Emma’s back, her sides, her shoulders and arms as she unties his laces and slides his pants down his hips (he slips out of them and his boots easily and then he is standing in front of her and if her mouth drops a little, he tries not to comment on it even though it pleases him tremendously that she accepts him – _that she wants him_ , scars and all).

She takes a step forward, eyes flicking down towards where he is most clearly aroused (and not at all ashamed of it, Emma is beautiful and striking and _his love_ ) .  She reaches for him, strokes upward, thumb ghosting over the tip.  He bites back a moan, and she smiles.

“There’s a hook in the back,” she whispers, and at first he’s uncertain but then Killian remembers the strange corset, and he reaches out to unclasp it.  She lets it fall with a shrug of her shoulders, and then, letting go of him, shimmies out of the final article of clothing until she is completely bare before him and he cannot take his eyes off of her for all the gold and jewels in the realm.

“Bath’s almost ready,” Emma says, throwing him a shy glance as she turns around and reaches for the tap.  She turns the water off, and then, looking over her shoulder, climbs into the tub.  His eyes trace every moment of her body as she settles down among the bubbles.  When she sees him lick his lips, she raises her eyebrow and gives him that look, the one he knows all too well, the one that says she’s done with his foolishness.

“As much as I enjoy the show…” she trails off, and Killian shakes his head to clear his mind.  He winks at her, taking the hint and climbing in amidst the bubbles (how strange, to have this luxury) and after some maneuvering, Emma is resting against his chest.  She drops her head to his shoulder and sighs.

“This feels amazing,” she says, and Killian agrees.  With his now-hookless hand, he pulls her closer, appreciating the feel of her in his arms like this.  He laughs, bending his head so that he can press a kiss on her exposed neck, then another and another.  Emma makes a low, throaty moan, hand coming up to tangle in his hair as she arches her back and presses into him.   He closes his eyes and rests his forehead against her shoulder – it is too much and not enough and everything all at once.

“So how are you enjoying modern conveniences?” she asks, and he takes the opportunity to trail his hand up towards her breast.  He grasps it in his hand, squeezes, fingers playing with the nipple, and she groans and presses back into him again.

“I quite like your idea of sharing,” he tells her, taking her earlobe in his mouth and bringing the flesh between his teeth.  Emma moans louder.

Emma’s hand leaves his hair and grasps for something behind them – a sponge, he realizes, as she dunks it in the water and holds it out to him.

“Might as well put that hand to good use,” she tells him, and he rolls his eyes.

“I thought I was,” he responds, but he takes the sponge anyway and begins to rub it in small circles on her stomach.   He brings his mouth to her shoulder and sucks a bruise as he moves the sponge up over her breasts, and then around her neck and back.  He moves her, asking her to lean forward and she does, granting him access to her back.  With the moment, she pushes her hips into his more, and he bites back a groan.

“I was going to say something about getting clean to get dirty…” Emma trails off with a laugh, glancing over her shoulder at him.  She tilts her head and dunks her hair into the water, then splashes some on her face.

“I feel disgusting,” she says, and Killian laughs. Before he can even make an innuendo, she shakes her head.

That is the moment when he pulls her back against him, wringing out the sponge on top of her head.   She leans her head back, letting the water flow over the both of them before running her fingers through her hair.  

“Thanks,” she says, and he responds, “trust me, darling, the pleasure is all mine.”

He responds by dipping the sponge back in the water, tracing the curve of her hip and the length of her thigh before deciding that she is quite clean enough for him right now.  He places the sponge on the edge of the tub before he returns his hand to her body, sliding down the smoothness of her stomach to her legs.  He avoids the area she most wants (she curses at him when his hand traces lightly down her thigh, around her knee, and back up).  Emma retaliates by shifting and rubbing back against him, and it is his turn to bite back a curse.

“Tease.”  Her voice is light, playfully, and it makes him wonder if she really understands the meaning.

He doesn’t mind demonstrating.

He brings his hand back up her thigh and between her legs, feeling for her sensitive place.  She hisses when he touches her there, finger then thumb rubbing, twisting, teasing _,_ hand coming to rest on his thighs, fingers digging into his flesh as she rocks against his hand.

“You must remember that your wish is my command, princess,” he tells her as her body arches up, taut like a bowstring, and her breathing becomes erratic until it finally catches in the back of her throat.  “That I serve you, and only you,” he adds, and the words seem to spur her on.  She lets out a sigh, reaches her hand down to cover his, encouraging him to increase the pressure.

He likes that she’s greedy with his affections.  There’s something to be said for a woman who knows what she wants, but Emma is not the type of woman who takes what isn’t given to her freely (and even then it’s a struggle) so as he coaxes her to another climax and he watches her body rise and fall beneath the quickly-dissipating bubbles, he knows that this is more than sex.  This is, and probably always will be, about trust.

And that, itself, is a powerful aphrodisiac.

She stills his hand and there is a flurry of moment –water splashes outside the tub, bubbles hit the nearby wall – as Emma shifts, desperately, and turns to face him.  She settles into his lap, teasing him with proximity, one hand reaching to take him firmly and stroke upwards, paying careful attention to when he gasps as her fingers twist over the tip.   She wraps her free arm around his neck and pulls him into a searing kiss which quickly becomes desperate.  He pulls away to nip the pulse point on her throat while she threads her fingers through his hair, drawing him closer.  There’s no space between them and the rub of her breasts against his chest drives him to madness (a good madness, a madness he would descend to willingly). 

She unwraps her arm from his neck at the same time that she stops kissing him, leaning back in the tub and grasping for the sponge (he groans when he sees her do this, because they are both quite clean enough for him but there is a mischievous glint in Emma’s eyes and so he says nothing, merely watches)

She dips the sponge in water and bathes his chest first, then his arms, still stroking him with measured moves.  She pays careful and considerate attention to his left arm, and her ministrations make him pull her closer for a desperate kiss before she slips out of his arms.  She smiles up at him shyly as she does this, using the same motions he did with her including wringing the sponge out over his head.  The slip and slide of her body against his nearly does him in, and yet he watches, his entire body on fire, as Emma runs her fingers through his wet hair and shifts her hips to rest against his.

And then slides away.

Emma scrambles for some sort of purchase, trying to shift her legs but her knees constantly slip against the wet tub and when he goes to help her, his own hips shift and he is nose-deep in water.  Emma laughs, splashing the remaining bubbles with her hands.

“Let’s get out,” she tells him.  All he can do is nod.

She climbs out first, grabbing for one of the cloths that he found earlier but he doesn’t care about being dry right now.  Killian reaches for her, grasping at her hip and pulling her back towards him.  The need building inside him is strong – stronger than he ever thought possible before Emma – a need built from traveling realms to find and bring her home, to traveling realms with her so close by his side, with everything that has been established between them and –

She tosses the cloths down on the floor and then turns, shoving him lightly.  He catches her meaning quite clearly.

Emma climbs onto him, knees on either side of his hips, and gives him a few quick strokes before settling onto him.  She bites her lip as she sinks down and Killian is sure he has never seen anything as glorious in his entire life.

“Sorry about the bathtub,” she says, shifting so that he hits home deep inside her, and he laughs and groans at the same time. She pushes against his chest so that his back lies flat on the floor, her hands slipping over his shoulders to rest beside his head.

He can see the flush spread downwards from her face to her shoulders and chest, can see her look away from him, down to where they are joined, and he understands it all too well  – the nervousness about everything that they’re doing here, even if it’s what they both want, even if it feels this good.  What exists between them is powerful enough to transcend realms, to bring him back to her, to bring them both home, and Killian feels every bit as overwhelmed as she does.  He reaches up, cups her face with his hand, and brushes his thumb against the apple of her cheek.  Her eyes meet his, and she gives him a shaky smile.

“I could care less where I have you, as long as I do,” he admits honestly, feeling foolish for using such terms to describe Emma, but it does something to her.

“Always,” she tells him.  “You’ll always have me, and you probably always did.”

There have been so many admissions from Emma in the past few days that he can barely keep count anymore, but this one – this may be the one he remembers forever.

Emma smiles and rocks back, her breasts a wet slide against his chest, creating a friction that only amplifies the feeling building between them.  He smiles back at her, rests his hand on her hips and spurs her forward, enjoying the way that she starts to come undone (he will never tire of watching her, never tire of how she feels under his hand as he moves it to where they are joined, the heat of her skin and her secret slickness, he will never tire of this).

She closes her eyes leans down to kiss him, then moans against his mouth and he knows she’s close and when she comes, she brings him with her, tumbling over the edge and he can barely breathe, can barely think, she is surrounding him and over him and with him and everything is Emma, now and forever and _always Emma._

It takes some time for him to recover and when he does, Emma is laying on his chest, her hair tickling his nose (not that he minds, he would take this over anything else).  

And at that moment, his stomach makes the most undignified noise it can muster.

Emma laughs, a belly laugh that has her slipping off of him and onto her side.  She rolls around on the floor, knees tucked to her chest, and when Killian turns to look at her it he realizes he’s never seen her like this – so free.  She has laughed more tonight than she has in all of their time together, and when he waggles his eyebrows at her (purposefully, for the sake of experimentation) she only laughs harder.

“Let’s get you some food,” she tells him finally, laughter subsiding. 

 Emma takes great pleasure in explaining what everything is.  He recognizes some things, like grapes and fruit and other vegetables, but chocolate syrup is definitely new to him, and so when Emma drizzles some across his collar bone and then proceeds to lick it off, he can hardly blame himself for what follows.

“She’s going to kill us,” Emma says, back pressed against the marble countertop.  “Also, this is freezing.”  He bites the inside of her thigh as if scolding her, and then gets to work, and if she trades words for moans and curses as she pulls his hair, he’s not complaining.

She retaliates with that bloody chocolate syrup(“I thought you said we needed to be clean, Swan” he retorts) and there is more time spent in the shower, which Emma demonstrates for him, commenting that she is surprised there is still hot water in this house.

By the time they finish, there is none.

…

He wakes the next morning to find himself tangled in sheets, a cold foot pressed against his ankle.  He opens his eyes, slowly, and blinks back sleep to find three-quarters of the bed covered by Emma, who is sprawled out across the white sheets.  The gold of her hair glints in the morning light, and she snores softly, face-first in a pillow.

Killian raises his eyebrows as he takes the sight in.  He turns over, shifting the bed, and Emma pulls the cover closer with a groan.

“Good morning, love,” he whispers, fingers reaching out to trace the knobs of her spine.  Her shoulders flex, and she turns her head to look at him.

“Morning,” she says, lips forming a small smile.  “Sleep well?”

“Like a babe,” Killian tells her, leaning down to press a kiss against her shoulder. 

From the floor by the bed, there is a buzzing sound.  He looks up, confused.

“Phone,” Emma says, flipping over and leaning off the side of the bed.  She finally locates it and sits back up, clutching the covers to her chest. 

“Hey David,” she says.   “Wait – what? Regina’s okay? Oh – really? That’s great.” She mouths _Robin_ to Killian, who nods.  He assumed as much when they left the man at the hospital. 

“Okay, we’ll meet you there.  See you in a bit.”  Emma places the phone on the bedside table and stretches, the sheets slipping down to her waist.  She sinks back into the pillows and looks at him, and the fact that they are here, in what is probably Regina’s bed, and Emma looks so at ease with him…

…he falls just a little deeper in love.

“Regina is awake, but not ready to do any magic.  Apparently Henry and Roland are with them now.” Emma raises an eyebrow. “She asked about us.”

“Did she now?” Killian asks, surprised.  Emma nods.

“Apparently she asked Mary-Margaret where we were and when she couldn’t give a good enough answer, she rolled her eyes and said something along the lines of she knew we’d keep her to her word.  Confused Mary-Margaret and Robin, apparently.”

“I’m not at all surprised,” he says with a shrug.   “Shall we go meet with your parents?”

Emma nods, slowly, and says, “Yeah, I guess so.”

“But…”

She smiles.  “I think I wanted to live in our little world for a bit longer.  But being Savior means I don’t get time off.”

“Hey.”  He reaches out for her, traces her face with his fingertips.  “I’m not going anywhere, love.  I thought I made that abundantly clearly last night.”  He winks at her, looking at the rather impressive bruise he left on her shoulder, and the one below her right breast, and her smile grows wider.

“Okay – clothes, before I decide that we’re staying in bed all day.” Emma slides out from underneath the covers and pads into the bathroom.  Killian sits up in bed, stretching, more than agreeing with Emma that he could sleep for a week, or do other more amorous things in this bed. 

Something smacks into his head and he looks up, surprised to find the sack David packed for him on the bed.  His hook and its harness follow, landing softly beside the sack.  Emma’s head is peeking out of the doorway. 

“Get dressed and or I’ll make you get dressed,” she threatens, and he stands up, stretching.

“Idle threat, Swan –“he calls out to her.  “You know you prefer me in my natural state.”

“Whatever,” she calls from the bathroom.  “Think what you want, pirate.”

“Dashing rapscallion, more like it,” he mutters under his breath as he opens the sack and takes out a shirt.  Emma’s right – there is no rest for the weary, not while the Wicked Witch may very well be on the loose, and Killian will not leave Emma’s side until she’s been vanquished (but he will be at her side, as a partner and much more, and that makes all of the difference).

 

 

 


End file.
